Jealousy
by StephNexus
Summary: *ON HIATUS* John Cena, the face of the WWE, was murdered. Secrets and scandals are revealed, friendships are made and friendships are broken as the world learns the truth of who murdered John Cena. WWE/CSI. Many characters feature.
1. The First Suspect

**A/N:**  
Hey guys, I have a new story for you all :) I had published a story somewhat like this one before, but took it down as I realised I didn't have the time, or motivation, to complete it. However, I've found new motivation for it, and can't wait for you to join in with the journey.

And now with the boring stuff:

**Summary**: John Cena, the face of the WWE, was murdered. The CSI team investigate the scene, unfolding the truth to discover the murderer–although it's a lot harder than any of them thought. Secrets and scandals are revealed, friendships are made and friendships are broken as the world learns the truth of who murdered John Cena.

**Please note**: Even if you aren't a fan of CSI, the story is primarily to do with the WWE and will be easy to follow. The only use of _CSI: Crime Scene Investigators_ is a few of the characters.

**Rating:** T. But it may change later on.

**Disclaimer:** I own absolutely nothing (unless stated otherwise), apart from the storyline idea.

Read, review and enjoy.  
Steph, xo

* * *

**Jealousy**

******Chapter One - The First Suspect**

Grissom's eyes travelled up and down the body; the skin was blue but patched with dry blood and severe bruises, the clothes ripped and dirty, the expression on the face looked helpless. He was used to studying dead bodies, but there was something about this certain case that was a little unnerving. The body, the lifeless body, was what used to be a hero–the face of the WWE, the favourite among many and seeing him in this state was surreal. Heroes are not meant to die; they are supposed to be immortal. Taking his white gloves from out of his back pocket, he shook them out before placing them on; the smell of the latex was short lived as the blood was soon to overpower–enough to make any sane, normal human physically sick. Using his hands, he gently tilted John Cena's neck, grimacing somewhat as he saw the slit on the left side of the neck; the cut was deep and was accompanied by signs of rope burn–as if John was being pulled around by rope, hung by rope–or something along those lines. Dropping the head to its original position, Grissom stepped towards John's chest; his shirt was ripped showing parts of the skin that were reddened in certain strips–as if John was whipped or hit multiple times. The more Grissom saw, the more he found himself intrigued–this case was _odd_: who would want to murder the face of the WWE? As Grissom finished looking at the body, he began to take swabs from any sign of injury; cuts, scratches, bruises–anything he could find. The sooner the body could be taken back to the lab, the better, because the murderer is still out there, roaming free.

.

.

.

"What the hell is going on here?!" Vincent McMahon yelled towards his employees. "I woke up this morning thinking this is going to be a good day, and tonight's pay-per-view is going to be amazing and what do I find out? That John Cena has been murdered. Is this some sick joke? Please tell me this is some sick April Fools or something!"

"It's November, Sir, so it can't be an April Fools," Phillip Brooks commented, the corner of his lips curving into the smallest of smirks.

"Dammit, Brooks, this is not a time to try and be a smart-ass!" Vince snapped. "The Face of the WWE was killed today, hours before a pay-per-view show, which he should be Main-Eventing! What the hell am I meant to do now?"

"You need to calm down," Randy Orton interjected.

"Tell me, Orton, how can I calm down when John Cena has been found _**dead**_?"

Randy closed his mouth and took a step back. Vince had a point. Before Vince could have the chance to explode some more, a knock at the door caused the room to turn silent.

"Excuse me, hi, I'm Gil Grissom, part of the CSI team," Grissom introduced, holding up his badge towards everyone. "I was hoping I could have a word with the main man here."

Vince let out a heavy sigh, "I'm here."

"Have you got an office or something we can go to?" Grissom asked, shrugging slightly.

"I have a make-shift office down the corridor, we can go there."

"Great. Oh, and you all need to stay here just for the time being," Grissom said towards all the Superstars and Divas.

Everyone rolled their eyes, groaning and mumbling; Grissom just ignored them and followed the boss towards his office. Once they were both inside, Grissom looked around until his eyes fell upon Vince; he looked absolutely distraught.

"I know this isn't easy right now, but I just need to ask you a few questions."

"Sure, go ahead," Vince replied, his voice quiet.

"Mr Cena…tell me about him."

"What do you want to know?"

"I want to know about his personality, who was he close with? Who were his enemies, if he had any?"

"John Cena was one of the most passionate guys I knew," Vince started. "He was caring, kind, considerate. He always put others first. He was extremely popular among the fans–particularly the ladies and the younger ones–"

"When you say marketable, what do you mean?"

"His merchandise would always sell–t-shirts, DVD's, wristbands and so on as well as pay-per-views: he would always help to sell them."

Grissom nodded.

"He was popular. Some would say too popular."

"Meaning?"

"The fans–mostly the older men–were starting to get bored of him, they would favour his opponents in the process," Vince explained, nonchalantly.

"Okay, great," Grissom said. "And what about his friends?"

"He's friends with around ninety percent of the roster," Vince replied.

"What about the other ten percent?"

"I would call them the jealous ones."

Grissom narrowed his eyes, "why would you call them that?"

"When someone is securely at the top, earning the most money, the most TV time, people get jealous and begin to hate said person."

"Could you tell me a few names of the, uh, _jealous ones_?" Grissom asked.

Vince leaned forwards, "Phil Brooks, better known as CM Punk; Nick Nemeth, better known as Dolph Ziggler; Mike Mizanin; Eve; Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson; Cody Runnels and Vickie Guerrero are the main guys you're looking for."

Grissom finished taking notes of the names.

"And if I wanted to talk to his _closest _friends, I would go and see…"

Vince cleared his throat, "Randy Orton, AJ Mendez and Matt Cardona. Everyone else is just friendly with him."

"Great. And what about his marital status?"

"He was recently divorced, his wife was Elizabeth Huberdeau."

"Thank you."

Vince just nodded before he ran a hand through his grey locks, "you will find the m–murderer, won't you?"

"That's what we're here to do," Grissom said with a slight shrug of the shoulders before he left without another word. Vince closed his eyes for a brief moment, doing his best to stop the tears that were threatening to fall from doing so.

.

.

.

Walking back in to the room, Vince cleared his throat, "The WWE Universe deserve to hear from me that John Cena is no longer with us. I'll start off the show and deliver the news. The show won't go on, and we'll refund the money for the tickets and tomorrow night will be a tribute show."

Not a single word was said, but most people nodded; what else were they to do?

Once again, Grissom knocked on the door and strolled in, "sorry to interrupt, I'm looking for," he glanced down at his notepad, "Phil Brooks."

Phil gripped onto his title belt as he stood up, "that's me. What do you want me for?"

"After the announcement has been made by your boss, I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"About?"

Holding back a sarcastic remark that formed in his mind, Grissom cleared his throat, "about John Cena."

"Great, even when he's dead he gets more fucking attention than me," Phil remarked, to which Grissom raised his eyebrow. "Whatever, I'll be right here so you can come and collect me, maybe even hold my hand as we walk down the corridor if you want to."

"And why would I do that?" Grissom asked.

"You're keeping tabs on us all, so you may as well go everywhere with me and hold my hand in the process," Phil retorted.

Grissom didn't say a word.

"Brooks, enough with the petty comments," Vince snapped as he straightened up his tie.

Phil dropped back down onto his chair, muttering something as he placed the belt onto his lap.

"The show will start in less than five minutes," A backstage worker informed Vince. He nodded and left the room swiftly, leaving the Superstars and Divas alone once more, sitting in silence, wearing solemn expressions. Grissom stayed stood near the door, watching the surrounding area; he was sure that usually it would be noisy, buzzing–the complete opposite of what it currently was.

"This is such bullshit," Phil spoke out-loud.

"What's bullshit?" Randy snapped, hearing enough of Phil and his 'witty' remarks.

"This. The fact that John Cena was murdered, the fact that the old man over there–"

"My name is Grissom," Grissom interjected.

"Yeah, whatever, I don't care," Phil retorted. "I know it wasn't me who killed Cena, so why should I be stuck here?"

"Because we lost a friend tongiht," Matt replied. "We lost one of the best workers we had here. Are you too selfish to even pay any kind of respect?"

"Respect? I'm the one who fuckin' deserves respect," Phil replied, angrily. The heated argument was soon put to a halt as everyone's attention turned towards the TV, "No Chance...that's what you've got…"

The WWE Universe all rose to their feet, cheering as Vince McMahon's music played and he strolled out. But for once, he wasn't his smiling self. He looked empty, which was soon noticed by near-enough everyone in the arena. He climbed through the ropes and stood in the middle of the ring, signalling for his music to be cut off.

The arena turned silent, every single fan not knowing what was going on. The atmosphere was eerie; the buzz from little over three minutes ago had dissolved into thin air. Vince blinked back his tears as he opened his mouth to begin speaking. When nothing came out, he swallowed hard; he had no idea what to say, or even how to start speaking. Still, the fans had no idea what was going on; the tag-team title match was scheduled first so why on earth was Vince out there?

"I–I–I have some terrible news…" Vince managed to stutter out. "I–I don't exactly know how to say this but, John, John Cena is no longer with us."

The arena stayed silent, not knowing if this is a work, or if Vince was speaking the truth. Eyes began to water amongst the crowd, sobs could be heard and the atmosphere turned even colder than before.

.

.

.

As Vince walked backstage, he couldn't help but break down into tears; it felt like a nightmare to him, John was like a son to him and now he was gone.

"Sir," Grissom said. "The body has been removed from the premises and the WWE are going to have to stay halt, in Las Vegas."

Vince nodded, "I'll cancel the shows after Monday. I still want the tribute show to go on tomorrow."

Grissom nodded.

"Gil," Sara called. Grissom turned to Vince, "excuse me for a moment."

"Sara, found anything?"

Sara shook her head, "not really. I need to head back to the lab to start testing various items. Catherine will be here shortly to help with some questioning. Have you got any suspects yet?"

"There's one guy," Grissom commented.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah…a Mr Phil Brooks," Grissom told her. "As soon as Catherine arrives I'll get hold of him and begin the ever-so-fun questioning process."

"Whoever is the murderer has some serious issues, the state of John's body is pretty vile," Sara said.

"Jealousy is an ugly thing, Sara."

"You think the motive was jealously?"

"I would say so. John was the main man; he got the most money within the company, as well as the most attention."

Sara just nodded, Grissom had a point; jealousy_ is_ an ugly thing.


	2. Bitterness

**A/N:**  
Thank you for the reviews, alerts and whatnot for the first chapter :)

Read, review and enjoy.  
Steph, xo.

* * *

**Chapter Two - ****Bitterness**

Walking down the corridor, Grissom ran a hand through his short hair. After finishing on the phone with Al, the chief medical examiner, Gil had learnt that John died little over three hours to him being discovered. However, cuts and bruises determined that John had been injured, cut, and bruised hours, even minutes before his death. Al was a little uncertain (seeing as he only had the body for little over an hour), but he was around 80 percent sure that the slit to John's neck/throat was what ended him.

"Gil," Catherine called as she approached him. "Apologies for being late, Sara filled me in before I left."

"So you're okay to get straight into it?" Grissom asked. Catherine nodded. "Great, I'll go and get Mr Brooks and we'll meet in that room at the end of the corridor."

"See you in a minute," Catherine smiled as she walked past Grissom and headed towards the 'questioning room'. Walking towards the room for the third time that evening, Grissom didn't even bother to knock and just stepped inside. His eyes searched around the room, but he didn't see Phil sitting in his usual place. Narrowing his eyes in confusion, Grissom cleared his throat, "can any of you tell me where Mr Brooks is?"

The room stayed silent.

"I need to know where Mr Brooks is, if none of you tell me, we'll all be here for longer."

"I think he went to answer his phone," someone commented. Grissom turned to the voice and asked, "And you are?"

"AJ, Sir."

"Well, it's nice to see that someone is willing to tell me where Mr Brooks is. Thank you."

AJ just smiled. Grissom turned to leave, his body jumping slightly, his eyes widening a little as just the man he was looking for stood in the doorway.

"Did I scare you?" Phil asked with a slight smirk. Grissom shook his head, "you weren't supposed to leave the room."

"But I did; what are you going to do about it?"

Ignoring his question, Grissom said, "you need to follow me, we need to ask you a few questions."

"Yeah, whatever…lead the way."

Grissom walked past Phil and headed towards the room which Catherine was in. He opened the door for Phil who just walked in, not even thanking him for opening the door for him, and followed him inside. Catherine was sat on a steel-chair, arms resting upon the table. Gripping onto his championship belt, he took the chair opposite to her, giving her an amused look.

"What?"

"You look like death," Phil remarked as he placed his belt on the table. Catherine shot him a look; he seemed pleasant_(!)_. Grissom took the seat next to Catherine, "so, Phil–"

"Please call me Punk."

Grissom and Catherine shared a knowing look; he sure _was_ a punk.

"Why Punk?" Catherine asked.

Phil rolled his eyes, "I'm CM Punk, your WWE Champion."

"And what does CM stand for?"

"Whatever you want it to stand for, baby," Phil replied in a flirtatious manner. Once again, Catherine shot him a look. Grissom exhaled a deep breath wanting to get on with the questioning, "What can you tell us about John Cena?"

"He was a dick," Phil was quick to say.

"You're going to need to give us more than that," Grissom told him.

"Well what else can I say, exactly?"

Grissom pushed his tongue against his cheek; there was something about Punk that he just didn't like. Catherine could sense that Grissom was becoming slightly irritated and decided to ask a question of her own, "What were your personal thoughts on John Cena?"

"He was nothing but a spotlight stealer," Phil said. "I've held this belt for over twelve months, and throughout my reign, have I been booked to Main Event pay-per-views? No. No, I wasn't booked to headline shows and main event pay-per-views. Guess who was booked to headline and main event shows? Yes, that's right, John Cena."

"So you were jealous of John Cena?" Grissom asked, his eyebrow raised a little.

Phil laughed humourlessly, "no."

"It sounds like you are to me."

"When you're the WWE Champion, you're meant to be the top man. Of course, John knew that. But he didn't care to mention that to Vince that, did he? Vince is getting old, he's getting delusional and he's running this business down, ruining it slowly. For some reason, Vince loved John Cena; it was like he had a crush on him or something."

Reading his body language, Grissom could tell that Punk was extremely jealous of Cena–and in Grissom's mind, he had a reason to be; it must be hard when you're meant to be the top man, but you're still getting overshadowed by the one guy your boss loves. Tilting his head slightly, Grissom opened his mouth, "why do you think your boss loved John?"

"My boss is in this business for the money, and John was one of his biggest sources–along with _Dwayne_," Phil said his name in a disgusted, sarcastic manner and he knew exactly what the next question was going to be as Catherine opened her mouth. "Dwayne is a part-timer. He left the business to pursue an acting career, and he came back to headline Wrestle Mania, when in reality, it should have been _me_ that was headlining."

Noting the bitterness in his tone, Grissom rubbed his temple for a brief moment, before opting to move away from the previous area of questioning, "When did you last see Cena?"

Phil stopped to think for a few moments, "The last time I saw him was two days ago, so, Friday."

"Where did you see him?"

"At the gym; although, he wasn't doing anything gym-related; he was sat on the bench on the phone."

"Did you hear any of his conversation?" Catherine asked. Phil shrugged, "not really; it did sound like he was having an argument–it wouldn't surprise me if it was Liz on the other end."

"Who is Liz?"

"His ex-wife," Grissom answered Catherine.

Punk leaned forward in his seat, "Look, I didn't murder Cena, I may have disliked him but murdering him was definitely not on my to-do list."

"You can leave," Grissom said.

Punk stood up.

"But, we'll be seeing you again soon."

"Why?"

"Ninety-nine percent of murderers say that they didn't murder the victim…"

"Well I'm the one percent that's telling the truth," Punk said, a slight smirk ghosting his lips.

Once Punk left the room, Grissom turned to face Catherine, "he may be a bitter man, but I don't think he's the killer."

Catherine didn't seem so sure.

"We need to find where this Liz lives."

Grissom nodded, "and we also have at least 9 others to question as well as Liz. Seeing as you arrived late, I'll leave you to question the other wrestlers."

"Oh, you're the worst," Catherine responded.

Grissom shot her a wink before leaving, "have fun with the wrestlers."

.

.

.

Walking into the room where John's body lay, Sara couldn't help but to grimace. Turning around after hearing the echo of her heels, Al cleared his throat, "I've had my work cut out with this one."

"Yeah? Found anything worth mentioning?"

Al walked around to the head, "his temple and forehead have a few grazes and I found some stone particles which suggest he must have been on the floor at some point. Grazes were also found on his back, too. A large bruise, accompanied by a lump was found on the back of his head, meaning that at some point he was knocked unconscious. The obvious injury was the slit in his throat caused by a fairly standard knife. On his chest were signs of whipping, most likely done by that of a belt. My examining concludes that the slit of the throat was the last inflicted injury; the rope burn was possible the first which could suggest that–"

"John Cena was tortured," Sara concluded.

Al nodded, "I also discovered that John had dried blood across his knuckles, and after examining whether it matched his own, it didn't. So before he was knocked out, he must have got into a fight with someone…I just need to work out who that someone is."


	3. The Ex

**A/N:  
**Apologies for the delay. I've now broken up for Christmas after my first term at University (I passed both my assignments, yay!). Here is the next chapter for all you lovely people :)**  
**  
Read, review and enjoy.  
Steph, xo.

* * *

**Chapter Three - ****The Ex**

Knocking on the door, Grissom took a step back as he waited for the house owner – or importantly, the woman he needed – to answer. As he saw a light flick on, he reached in his pocket for his badge, the person on the inside fumbling with the lock. The door opened, and Grissom was greeted by a short brunette woman, wearing next-to-nothing.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her eyebrow slowly raising. Grissom held up his badge, "My name is Gil Grissom and I'm part of the CSI team here in Las Vegas. I believe that you are the ex-wife of John Cena."

She looked unimpressed by the mention of his name, "What's it to you?"

"John was murdered earlier today."

"Oh." Was all she said.

Grissom noticed her lack of emotion, "Are you not upset, angered, surprised?"

"No." she retorted. "Why would I be? As far as I'm concerned, he deserved to…_die_."

"May I come in?"

Liz bit her lip as she eyed the older man up and down, "you're welcome to come in."

Grissom cleared his throat as he stepped inside. The house was large, modern, well decorated–it was clear that Liz had won a fair share come the end of the divorce. Brushing past the investigator, Liz headed into the living room which was a little messy. She fluffed up her hair and smiled innocently, "you'll have to excuse the mess…I had a few friends over last night and things got very out of hand."

Grissom noticed her suggestive tone at the end of her sentence, "have you been here all day?"

"Pretty much…" she replied. "Woke up at around three, went out in the garden to have a fag, then came back inside."

She took a seat as she finished her answer and motioned Grissom to follow suite. Wearily, he sat down beside her and asked her the next question, "before the divorce, what was your relationship with John like?"

"It was alright, I guess."

"Just alright?"

"Yeah," she shrugged. "The sex was mediocre; he doesn't know how to handle a woman like me."

Grissom's eyes widened a little as he felt her hand come into contact with his knee. Removing her hand from his knee as politely as possible, he cleared his throat, "why were you with him?"

A quiet chuckle escaped her lips as she rolled her eyes up to look Grissom in the eye, "I was with John Cena primarily for his money; he went away for months at a time, and how would he make things up to me? He would buy me things–expensive jewellery, cute shoes, and fashionable clothes, you name it, and he'd give it to me. I know, I know. You're probably thinking what a gold-digging bitch I am, and yes, you're right…to some extent. Once upon a time, I _did_ love him."

"What changed?"

"Like I mentioned previously, he would go away for months at a time. I found it hard."

Grissom nodded.

"I didn't mind for the first few times, but after that, it grated off on me. I hardly saw him, and when he was home, he would head to the gym or go off to some shitty media event which meant our time together was getting shorter and shorter. But, you know, he is–well, was–the face of the WWE, which meant he got paid the most. And what did most of the money get spent on?"

"You," Grissom answered.

"Correct," she said, smirking.

"Why did you get divorced?"

"He caught me cheating on him," she replied nonchalantly. "When he went out on the roads I'd get lonely so I would wear the shortest dress I could find, head out to a bar and find some attention elsewhere and end up in another man's bed."

"Did you feel guilty?"

She shook her head, "not really. I know damn well he cheated on me."

Grissom pushed his tongue into his cheek.

"Look, I know I'm a suspect but I didn't kill my ex-husband. I got all I wanted out of him; I got the house, the dog, a couple cars and plenty of money; I'm sorted for life and good riddance to him."

Grissom stood up, "I'll see you again."

"Wait…" Liz quickly grabbed onto a piece of paper and pen and jotted down her number and name. Handing it to Grissom, the smirk soon returned to her chapped lips, "don't be scared to call me, because I'm more than sure you'll be able to satisfy me."

Taking the piece of paper, Grissom shot her a smile and placed it into his pocket, "one more question before I leave."

"Yeah?"

"You said that John cheated on you…do you know who with?"

"She slut called Ashley," Liz spat her name as if it was some forbidden name that shouldn't be mentioned. Once again, Grissom detected jealousy–he was getting somewhat fed up with that stupid emotion.

"Thank you," he said as he walked towards the front door. As he closed the door behind him, he walked towards his car. At that moment, he doubted that Liz was the murderer; like she said, she got everything she could out him but who knows. From what he knew, they ended badly and being in that state can make you do stupid things. As he climbed into his car and strapped himself in, he took the piece of paper from his pocket and looked down at the number she had wrote before crumpling it up and throwing it in the backseat of his car. Ringing her was not going to be part of his to-do list, seeing the mentioned Ashley however, definitely was.


End file.
